Thursday, 26 January 2012

An apple a day...

It's a family trait - we hate going to the Doctor's. I get a panicky about the fact they're only practising medicine.

How I wish I had gone to the Doctor's when my asthma first kicked in again, or when we moved house and I lost my old inhaler. Yesterday I was so excited about going for a run. I'd gone about half a mile and was on a bit of an uphill journey (literally and metaphorically) and was getting to that black spots in front of the eyes stage. That's normally when I'd start walking but I powered on to the top of the hill. Where I nearly fainted.

I could not breathe at all, then the panic started to set in because a) I did not have an inhaler and b) if I did faint there was a big pile of dog poo I was sure to land in. After a minute or so of crouching with my head in between my knees (and still not breathing properly) I took a short cut home.

I felt crushed. When I got in I lay down for a good 5 minutes before I could breathe properly. I've never quit a run before. The Mr has taken our forms to the new Doctor's today and so hopefully I can get a new inhaler on Wednesday.